


I Can't Help But Think of Your Other (In the Bed that Was Mine)

by catastropheprone



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Diners, Dream is dumb, Exes to Lovers, M/M, Post-Break Up, Sapnap is amazing, based on night shift by lucy dacus, george is even dumber, waitress!niki, walks home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastropheprone/pseuds/catastropheprone
Summary: George and Dream may have broken up two months ago, but because they're short on money, they're forced to live together still. After a date with Sapnap ends in disaster, George can't help but think of Dream 24/7. But Dream hurt him, and he doesn't want to see him ever again...Right?
Relationships: (past) Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 56





	I Can't Help But Think of Your Other (In the Bed that Was Mine)

George stared into the night sky as he walked home with his date, Sapnap, and unintentionally paid no attention to the story the blonde was telling him about how he used to think people lived inside the television until he was nine. There was just so much on the man's mind and he couldn't help but lose his attention on Sapnap. George felt bad. For as good of a person Sapnap was, and how much he could recognize the caring and loyalty in his irises, George's eyes didn't hold a speck of anything. Not even desperateness. They were just brown orbs filled with pain-riddled memories and silent regrets.

George soon recognizes his apartment's front garden and slows his pace down. "This is my stop," he speaks, his feet halting to a stop on the melted gum-covered and dirt sprinkled concrete sidewalk. He finally turns around to face Sapnap, who was standing behind him. Was he to kiss him? Yes, it was the first date, but George feels an underlying urge- no,  _ force  _ to press his lips against the brunette's own. It wouldn't hurt if he gave him a quick peck, wouldn't it? His heart wouldn't be ripped out of his chest, that's for sure. "Thanks for the date, I really enjoyed it."

"No problem, I really enjoyed it too!" Sapnap's face is adorned with a bright smile, perhaps not one bit duller than any star in the sky. It's a nice smile. One that someone would be lucky to wake up to every morning. Sapnap inched towards the dark brunette-haired man until their oxygen was shared in a certain capacity.

"I'd love to do this again,  _ Clay... _ " and George presses his lips against Sapnap's. Suddenly, he's aware of what he said, and erupts coughing and struggling to breathe, Sapnap's eyebrows raise in surprise, and he quickly pats George's back, helping him recover quicker. George's coughs die down, and the tension in the night sky expands wider than the surface of the Earth. Sapnap's name is  _ Sapnap,  _ not  _ Clay.  _ George's mouth curves into a frown, and tears brim his eyes. Sapnap probably hated him. "Shit, I'm so sorry, Sapnap,"

"Hey, no, it's fine, you're all good! I promise..." Sapnap sees George's embarrassed expression. He then notices the tears pooling in his eyes. "Want to talk about it?"

George scoffs in disbelief. "Really? After that?"

Sapnap nods. "Yeah. It seems like you just need someone to talk to, and thank god I'm here." It was unbelievable that Sapnap reacted this way. Most people would just be mad and leave, but Sapnap stayed and saw beneath the mock-confidant exterior George had on. He was even more perfect.

George nods slowly and they walk up the front steps, George retrieving his keys from his bag and opening the front door. "Would you like something to drink?" He asks, walking through the door. "A glass of-" His eyes suddenly fix upon the dirty-blonde haired man sitting on the couch, drinking a glass of wine. "-Water..." The man on the couch turns his head to face George and Sapnap and his eyes widen, realizing that the other man must have been George's date. "What are you... What are you doing here? I, uh, I thought you had the night shift?" George questions.

"Is this your roommate?" Sapnap asks. The wine-drinking man gets up from off the couch and walks to Sapnap, holding his hand out.

"I'm Clay." Sapnap's eyes widened in shock, clearly taken aback by the fact that  _ this man,  _ standing in front of him, was the man whose name was muttered by George's lips outside. "And yeah, I'm his roommate. Oh, and ex." George's eyes send a glare to Clay who looks pleased by the fact that he might be intimidating Sapnap.

George is quick to speak up before Clay says anything else. "We're both tight on money, that's why we're still in the same house." Sapnap nods slowly until his phone begins to ring.

"Hello?" he answers. The two exes are staring at each other and the air is thick with tension. "What? Wait, wait, Karl, slow the fuck down!" The line erupts with laughter and amusement, and from what George can make out, someone has accidentally set their jacket on fire, and maybe their kitchen. "Oh my god. Ok, uh, I'll be right there, just uh, make sure Alex doesn't do anything at all until I get there. Ok? Alright, bye." He quickly hangs up and turns to George with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I have to run-"

"It's ok, go save your home from being burnt down," George says, and Sapnap sends a smile to him before exiting the apartment. George steps outside and waves him off. "Text me!" he shouts. He might as well make a friend out of the man.

"I sure will!" George heads back inside, approaching Clay.

" _ Oh, George! Text me! Let's make out! I love you, George!  _ God, he's annoying," Clay groans.

George walks to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water. "Y'know, can you not be inconsiderate for one moment?" Clay rolls his eyes. "Let me live my goddamn life, without intervening in it! I already have to live with you."

Clay scoffs. "And so do I!" he retaliates. He stands there with arms wrapped around himself in a green sweatshirt, donning some sweats and slides. The blonde thinks for a moment, and then leaves the kitchen to go out into the living room. George's looking at an update from Sapnap on the whole fire situation when Clay enters the kitchen again. He holds his car keys out in front of himself, jingling them to get the attention of the brunette-haired man. George's eyes shoot up. "C'mon," Clay says flatly. "Let's get something to eat."

"But it's 1 am?"

"Get your ass moving, Mr. Davidson."

The purple-hued lights inside the diner added a touch of comfort in this current situation. George is dipping his fries in some ranch (which they didn’t have in England) as Clay gobbles down a cheeseburger. Neither of them is saying what they want to say. It's like there's an unmovable barricade in their line of communication. The muted conversation is tearing away at them, as if confrontation is of their utmost importance yet they wrap duct tape around their mouths. Blank stares and slightly raised brows don't help at all. But maybe a waitress does.

Niki approaches the two just before she leaves for the night. "Oh my goodness, look who it is!" She exclaims. Clay and George look at each other and then give awkward smiles to the German waitress, trying to mask the uncomfort. "I haven't seen the two of you in a  _ long _ while!"

"Hi, Niki..." says George, uninterested in conversation with the blonde.

"Hey, Niki," follows Clay.

"How are you two? Are you doing good?" She asks. All that was on Clay's mind was:  _ God, can she just leave?  _

"Uh, we're doing good, Niki. Just chilling." George hopes his words are enough to reassure Niki that they're fine, and enough to make her leave. And to her enjoyment, they are. She bids her goodbyes and a minute later she's out the door. It's a huge wave of relief for the two men because they didn't think Niki knew they had broken up.

Oh, yeah. That's why they were here.

"How was your date?" Clay is the first to make conversation, surprisingly.

George takes a sip of his lemon water. "It was fine. But it's kind of surprising you're asking me this, Dream. I never ask you about guys and girls you've brought home."

Clay sighs. "It was only one girl, George. And you and I aren't dating, so I don't know why you're mentioning it." 

George knew why he was mentioning it. Ever since their breakup, George had been working hard on regaining his self-worth as quickly as he could, but he couldn't help but think of another person in Clay's bed that wasn't him. It was wrong. He was supposed to be over the blonde. Were his feelings just of anger? Were they even valid? He still cares about Clay. So much. But he can't let his thoughts cross the line. He wasn't dragged here to sit and watch Clay stare at his feet. What was the plan? Absolve his guilt and shake hands? Returning home pretending as if nothing happened? George really didn't feel any need to forgive Clay, but he might as well considering how much he'll see of him. George hates tension. He always has. It clouds his brain like smoke from a huge fire, and it lingers for so long.

The two of them spoke no more and finished the rest of their food. They left a tip and then headed out to the car. Clay twisted the keys into ignition only to see that the gas tank was empty.

"Shit," he breathed out.

George furrowed his brows. "What is it?" He leaned over to see what Clay was looking at. "Jesus fucking Christ, Dream! How the hell are we getting home?"

"Calm down, it's only a 20-minute walk from here," he suggested, but George shook his head furiously. "Well, if you aren't walking, call someone."

"As a matter of fact, I will." The raven-haired man pulled out his phone, only to see it was fucking dead. He slowly placed it back on his lap. "Or, maybe I won't." Clay cackled in the driver's seat. "Oh, fuck you."

"You already have."

\--

The sun had yet to rise in front of the ex-couple's eyes. George swore that the sky had gotten darker than before, but it was most likely his eyes not being used to the absence of light. George had also decided that he'd never walk home ever again and that he would  _ always  _ charge his phone instead of abandoning the appliance for a whole day. Clay had randomly started whistling and humming the tune of a song buried deep inside the black-haired man's mind. It might have taken a couple of moments for him to recognize, but he realized it was a song by a mutual friend of theirs:  _ Your Sister Was Right  _ by their beloved Wilbur Soot. Suddenly, Clay stopped.

"Why did you stop?" George quizzed, head tilting to the side. He was actually enjoying the blond's rendition of the ballad.

"Because," Clay started. He began to pick at his nails. "I thought you'd yell at me or something." Now, why would George yell at Clay for humming a song? It wasn't like it annoyed him or anything. But he could definitely see Clay not understanding that. "I thought it would bring up some unwanted conversation." What 'unwanted conversa-'  _ oh.  _ Huh. Realization crashed into George's mind when he understood what Clay was talking about.

_ "Babe, come here! Wilbur sent me a new song and he really wants us to listen to it!" Clay laid on their bed, texting the mentioned brunette, waiting for his boyfriend to enter the room. _

_ George finished drying a plate, setting the dishrag on the counter, and placing the plate in the cabinet. "I'll be right there, baby!" He exited the kitchen and walked upstairs into the bedroom, seeing Clay on the bed with just a large sweatshirt and basketball shorts on. "What's up?" _

_ Clay smiled and pressed a kiss on the man's temple. "We’re gonna have a little listen." _

_ About three minutes had passed and George found himself crying, wiping them instantly to try and not alarm Clay. Unfortunately, it didn't work and Clay was quick to pull the older man in a hug. "Babe, what's wrong?" _

_ "It was so fucking sad, Clay," he choked out. "I just don't want that to happen to either of us, ever." _

_ Clay pouted, caressing George's face with the back of his smooth hand. "It won’t George. You’re so amazing, and wonderful, and deserve all the love in the world. Especially mine.” _

_ George gasped lightly. "You love me?" he asked in shock. _

_ "Of course, babe. I love you, I really do, and you will never have to worry about me not loving you." George didn't say anything, but instead, pressed his lips on Clay's, taking his shirt off moments later. _

George stopped walking for a second. "Were you lying? When you said you loved me?" Clay shook his head slowly. "Then what made you fall out of love? Because every day I beat myself up, wondering if I just wasn't good enough for you, or if I'll ever be good enough for anyone," George choked out. "A-and it fucking  _ sucks  _ because I don't get  _ any fucking answers  _ from you!"

Clay's face softened. He peered down at the ground. "I… I don't-I don't know. It just happened."

" _ BUT IT DOESN'T JUST FUCKING HAPPEN, DREAM! _ " He stormed his way towards the blond, standing in front of him, their faces half a foot away from each other. " _ YOU DON'T JUST WAKE UP AND FALL OUT OF LOVE WITH SOMEONE, AND PUSH THEM AWAY WITH NO REASON OR EXPLANATION! _ "

Clay's face was then streaked with tears. "George, I'm sorry-"

"No, Dream.  _ I'm sorry.  _ Sorry for myself. Forget you ever saw me at my best. You don't deserve what you don't respect. What you say you love, but then proceed to neglect."

Clay bit his tongue. He knew back in high school that it was dangerous to fall in love so young, but he didn't expect the age of 21 to still be young. He wanted to take back everything he had said and done. But the fact was that he couldn't lose what he never had.

Due to the argument, they had gotten home later than what they had planned.

"Clay, I want you to know that we have to keep this routine we have." George began to walk upstairs.

"What routine?" asked Clay from the living room.

"I've got a 9 to 5 at work, and you've got a night shift at your own job. That should be plenty of time that we don't see each other. Hell, I'll plan to never see you again if I can help it." He began walking upstairs again, and Clay was going to run after him, but ultimately decided against it. Both of them went to sleep with tears running down their face, their bodies aching for some kind of consolation and empathy from the other.

\--

Two days passed and George woke up on a Sunday morning and headed out to Sapnap’s for a brunch he and his roommates were having. He’d do anything to get away from Clay.

The raven-haired man knocked on the white door of the apartment, only to be met with the face of a man with light brown hair and a multi-colored sweatshirt. “Why, hello there!” he greeted George. “Sapnap! Your boyfriend is here!”

“Oh, we’re not dating,” George interjected.

The man gave George a look that signaled he was disappointed. “Dammit. Now I and Alex have to deal with his moping around for longer…” he trailed off. “Oh, shit, I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Karl!” he stuck his black-nailed hand out for George to shake.

George noticed the nail polish that his hands adorned and was instantly reminded of Clay. The blonde had always gotten his nails done that way. He wasn’t really one for colordul nails. His hands were masculine and strong. “George,” he said.

“Come on in! Sapnap’s making some souffle pancakes!” George walked inside the apartment and was guided into the living room by Karl. It was really clean and minimalistic, like his own apartment, but that’s all thanks to Clay.  _ Fuck,  _ he thought.  _ Stop thinking about Clay, you bitch. _

“Dude, since when did we get another white guy in here?” A shorter man came into the living room from the hallway, observing George. “My name is Alex, pleased to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m-”

“ _ George!  _ ” yelled a familiar voice. Sapnap came charging into the living room with an apron on, attacking George with a massive hug. “I can’t believe you came!”

George chuckled. “Of course I came, Sapnap! You tantalized me with a nice brunch, which I could never,  _ ever,  _ pass upon.” George pulled away from the man and his brain screamed the name  _ ‘Clay’  _ at him. And it had a reason. Sapnap’s hair was styled the way Clay would always do to his own. He even wore green, Clay’s favorite color, goddammit.

_ This was going to be a long brunch.  _

\--

George got home at around four and immediately crashed on the couch due to the number of mimosas and wine consumed, only taking off his shoes and throwing his phone and keys down on the floor somewhere in the living room.

Shortly after, Clay walked downstairs to get himself a cold slice of Sicilian pizza but saw George on the couch, already dozed off. A small smile appeared on his face, and he walked over to the couch to grab a blanket to cover the raven-haired man. As soon as the fluffy piece of material covered George’s body, he woke up with a jolt. “ _ Ah!”  _ Clay yelped.

“ _ Ah!”  _ screamed George. He looked up at Clay, who stood in front of the couch, rubbing his fingers in circles on his temples. “Dream, what the  _ fuck  _ are you doing?”

“I’m sorry! I just saw you were sleeping, and I-”

“What? You just decided to wake me up?”

“I wasn’t doing that!” Clay fired back. “I was just putting a fucking blanket on you!”

George sighed heavily, shaking his head and swinging his legs off the couch. “Sorry, I-I didn’t know.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Clay replied. “You were asleep.” Clay sat down on the opposite end of the couch and started biting his lip. A couple of moments had passed, tension thick. "I lied, on Friday," Clay spoke up. George had a blank stare as he turned to look at the blonde.

“What?”

"I said I loved you back then, but I lied."

George scoffed. "See how easy that was?"

" _ I'm not fucking done _ ," stressed Clay. "I wasn't in love back then, yeah. But I was scared that if I had loved someone, things w-would end up the way they were w-with Fundy,” he began to cry. “I wanted to see the world through his eyes when we were together. He loved me, and I loved him. But I changed my mind when he cheated. I was so dumb. So naive, to believe he loved me.

“And with that, I was so fucking paranoid. Scared that someone who appears to love me then turns out to be the exact opposite. Then I met  _ you.  _ And I was  _ scared _ , George. Terrified that it would have been the same with you.” He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I was forcing myself to tell you I loved you, to see if all my superstitions were right. And I knew they weren't, but then I got scared again and had no clue when you would snap. So… I pushed you away. Turns out, it's hard to do that when you're flat broke," he chuckled. George had tears coming down his face, slowly, but surely. "I might not have been in love then, but I sure as hell am now. And I'm so happy I've figured that out." Clay took a deep breath and sighed. "You don't have to forgive me, at all. You can pretend this never-"

" _ I forgive you _ ,” interrupted George. “God, I will forgive you for everything,  _ Clay _ ." Clay smiled through his tears. He was lucky. Lucky that George wasn't like his ex. Lucky that George was forgiving. Lucky that George was George. George moves next to Clay on the couch. "I love you," he says before pressing his lips against Clay's for the first time in two months. And it’s perfect.


End file.
